


Love In The Sewers

by sakura_freefall



Category: Crossover/Multi-fandom
Genre: Based on a conversation me and my brother had at the dinner table, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crossover, Cursed, Dark Crack, I hate this too, Jealous Erik, Love Triangles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smitten Bruce Wayne, So is Pennywise, They're Obviously Soulmates, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is truly awful, Unrequited Love, Victor Hugo is in love with the sewers, save yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_freefall/pseuds/sakura_freefall
Summary: Victor Hugo is in love with the clown Pennywise, the both of them living in the neverending sewer systems. But Hugo's ex-boyfriend, Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, is dead-set on revenge. That is, until Erik meets a special someone by the name of Bruce Wayne...(This is pure crack, please do not judge my writing based off of this)
Relationships: Erik | Phantom Of The Opera/Bruce Wayne | Batman, Past Victor Hugo/Erik | Phantom Of The Opera, Victor Hugo/Pennywise
Kudos: 2





	Love In The Sewers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for what you're about to read.
> 
> This was my younger brother's idea. Blame him.

PART ONE: VICTOR HUGO

The man crept through the sludge, squinting his eyes to see through the gloom. He was stout and not very tall, with a presumably white beard that was caked with grime. The lantern he carried was dimly casting a glow about the dark tunnel, with the only other light source being occasional barred grates overhead. The man had the sure-but-quiet demeanor of one who has spent far too long in a domain he is not accustomed to, only to adapt to the conditions with the passage of time.

He felt around himself, trying to drown out the whispers- the ghosts that constantly followed him. He knew their names by heart, but he did not think them. He only really pushed them to the back of his mind, trying to distance himself from the guilt of what he'd done. This murderer, this scoundrel, this literary genius, what was his name? It was Victor Hugo.

He'd brought them into the world only to destroy them with his pen strokes. They had lives given to them by the ink on the paper, and when he took the life away, he realized they would never leave him.

Oh, he'd payed the price for it, many times over, both in the ever-present soreness in his legs borne from that dreadful day that the stranger had appeared in front of him and cut off his kneecaps with a serrated dagger, before taking one of the constant voices- the littlest one- and carrying him out of the sewers, very much alive. It was strange, but the old man had seen far stranger. The other price was his curse: the curse to dwell forever in the dankest sewers of the world- oh, those forty pages, seemed such a whim at the time, but now were only pain. Pain and suffering.

There was one bright spot in the poor man's life, however. It was when he met another sewer-dweller, a younger man in a theatre mask, named Erik but often called "Phantom", who had the voice of an angel and the tongue of a devil. He was culture to Hugo's chaos, suavity to his coarseness, and had swept the old French writer away on his golden boat and steam-filled lair where the water ran as clean as it ever did in the musky place. They had enjoyed a few lovely months together, discussing death and life and the arts, before that dreadful day where they had a terrible disagreement- pitting their muses against each other, going for low blows, Hugo defending Fantine, the golden-haired girl he'd created, against Erik's long-lost first love, an opera singer named Christine. They fought and argued and sniped and grumbled, until Victor Hugo decided he'd had enough.

When he walked out the door, he vowed never again to set his eyes on Erik the Phantom.

He lived months- maybe years, maybe more- alone again, nothing but the rats and ghosts for company, wishing for a pen, anything to write something with. And that's when the red-haired, balloon-holding, blood-covered clown walked right into his life.

He was a serial killer, and Hugo was a writer, both with some sort of a body count- of course they were soulmates. His name was Pennywise, and he had a taste for violence not matched by any of Victor's darkest fantasies. Yet somehow, they made it work, and while his relationship with Erik was based off walking on eggshells and carefully-planned digressions, Pennywise wanted none of that. He was rough, unapologetic, harsh, and unrelenting, brutally honest but mysteriously vague, and the two felt matched like a knife to a whetstone.

Occasionally, even so, Hugo remembered his days with Erik, almost wistfully. But he had Pennywise, and he much preferred the sadistic clown over what he'd had with the masked singer. But he could not deny, there was something about the golden boats and silver candelabras that he had enjoyed. A taste of high culture was rare down in the gloom of the sewers. However, the rough, coarse demeanor of the clown suited him, and he loved his darker-than-night humour and bone-chilling anecdotes. And he was an excellent kisser.

Hugo carried on through the sewers, inching his kneecap-less legs forward and forward, knowing that the love of his life was waiting at the dead-end pipe they called home.

PART TWO: ERIK (THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA)

Erik liked to think himself a man of culture. A lover of beauty and refinement not much suited to the gross, disgusting reek of the sewers where he chose to build his lair. Sure, he had rose petals, and candlesticks, and crystal chandeliers, but that paled in comparison to what he'd lost- first, his first love, Christine, a singer with a beautiful voice who'd left him for a rich young lad- just because Erik tried to kill a few people in the opera house doesn't mean he deserved to be dumped, did it?- and next... oh, next was the old French poet and writer, Victor Hugo, who'd understood him in a way nobody else could.

Oh, the fight, the terrible fight. Inflamed by passion and righteous fury, he'd spat venom at the venerable old man, after he dared say that a girl he'd known of- Fantine, her name was?- was a better person than dear sweet Christine! It was his job and honour to defend his champion, even at the cost of the love of his life. Ever since Victor Hugo had limped out the door (somehow, the man had lost his kneecaps, Erik felt more lonely than ever before.

Worse were the rumours that Hugo, the old bother, had found another love- a serial killer with a clown's face. How Erik envied and hated that man, for stealing the hand and heart of his own flame!

Erik was not going to let him go that easily.

He'd concocted a plan- a plan involving fabric, which he had lots of, time, which he also had lots of, and a tape on how to imitate accents that he'd gotten off Amazon- boy, that delivered anywhere.

If Hugo loved Pennywise so much, he reasoned, then Pennnywise Erik would become. Now, if only there was a way to... rid himself of the clown.

No matter. Pennywise would be convinced Hugo had fallen out of love with him, and hopefully be so overcome by sadness and loneliness as Erik once was, that he'd stay well out of his way.

By the time Erik had finished his preparation, he had a mask, an outfit exactly like Pennywise's, fake blood, and a butcher's knife. Donning his disguise, and knowing that Pennywise would be out that day looking for children to slaughter, he set out for the dry pipe Victor Hugo called home.

"Who's there?" rang out the voice, the voice that had haunted Erik's dreams for so long.

"It's- uh, it's me. Pennywise," Erik replied.

"I thought you'd be out on the hunt," came the curious response.

"Eh, I decided, you know, to come home early? Take the day off?"

"All right then, mon amour, do come in."

It was going perfectly.

Immediately, Hugo swept him into a kiss. Oh, how he'd missed kissing him. It was rougher than he'd recalled- perhaps Pennywise was a harsher lover- but still glorious all the same. Now, all he had to do was wait. Nothing could go wrong now.

PART THREE: PENNYWISE

After a hard day of slaughtering innocent people (a clown had to eat somehow), Pennywise's mind was full of thoughts of returning home to his love- Victor Hugo, a Frenchman doomed to live without kneecaps in the sewers forever. The man had a dirty mind and a sharp witty tongue, and matched Pennywise toe-to-toe. Their relationship was a bit non-traditional, but they made it work for them.

So why did he hear kissing from inside Victor's pipe?

He peered inside to see Victor- his Victor- kissing... someone else? The clown felt sadder than the time someone had stolen his favourite red balloon.

What he didn't expect was to turn around and see someone with his very own face staring back at him.

"P- Pennywise? Wait, what? It's not- I swear, it's not what it looks like!" stammered the husky voice he'd fallen for. "There- there are two of you? How is this-"

"I'm the real Pennywise, I swear!" he said, feeling a rush of fear and worry. The other man responded in kind.

"No, uh, I'm the real Pennywise!"

"Well then," murmured the old man, scratching his chin. "There's only one possible explanation. There is one impostor among us. Now how to tell who's faking?"

Suddenly, the fake-Pennywise ripped off his costume to reveal a gem-covered cape and mask, before drawing a pirate cutlass. "I admit I am Erik, Phantom of the Opera, who's loved you and missed you every day since we parted!"

"Erik, what?! I'm with- I'm over you, we broke up!"

"I regret every word of what I said! I love you more than even Christine! And I'm willing to fight this clown for your heart if need be!"

 _Ah,_ thought Pennywise. _This 'Erik' fellow just made a grave mistake._

"Then we can fight," he said, pulling a butcher's knife from his pocket. "Come at me, brother!"

"No- no- stop! I said stop!" yelled Victor, but his shouts were lost in the clang of metal against metal, both men fighting to kill. Erik was good, his strokes percise and fluid, but nothing could match the sheer rage of the angry clown fighting for his true love.

Erik made the right decision. He fled the area, whimpering, dragging his muddy coat behind him.

"Oh, thank goodness, my Pennywise," crooned Hugo, throwing his arms around the clown.

"I'd kill everyone on this Earth for you," he replied.

PART FOUR: BATMAN

Bruce Wayne wasn't in the sewers for a reason. He'd simply taken a wrong turn and gotten lost down there with no hope of finding his way out. It was cold and moldy and musky, and the only light was the dim grates that opened up onto the streets. So he was undoubtedly surprised to see another man- a very attractive man0 down there as well. The man in question had a sad expression, a mask covering half of his face, and a bedraggled yet flamboyant opera cape. He was hunched in a dry pipe, muttering to himself and looking hopeless.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No... just leave me..." the man groaned.

"Are you hurt? Look, I'm Batman, it's my job to make sure you don't get hurt. Unless you're a supervillain, that is."

"I'm not hurt... the only wounded thing is my heart."

Bruce felt strangely... attracted by the dramatic stranger. His voice was melodic and reedy, and Bruce blushed in spite of himself. "Who broke your heart?"

"I... I cannot speak his name... I... I'm ruined..."

"Um, I'm sorry? Do you want me to like, talk to you? What's your name?"

"My... my name is Erik, though some call me Phantom of the Opera. Strange, I know..."

"I've heard stranger," Bruce said. It was true. His archnemesis was a guy named "Joker", of all things.

"Who are you, kind traveler?" asked Erik.

"Oh. I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne. More commonly known as Batman."

"You... why are you so kind to me?"

"Because you looked sad and lonely," he said. And before he could stop himself, the words "And also, you're really hot," slipped out.

"M... me? Hot?"

"Yeah..."

"Can you kiss me?" The request was in a quiet voice, and Bruce knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to say no to this.

He kissed Erik on the lips, feeling warmth spread through him. Maybe this would be the start of something beautiful.


End file.
